Here comes the bride...?

So Markus proposed marriage, and I said yes.

Actually what I said was, "REALLY? really? Like, really? Re-ally? rrrreally? REALLY? really? wait, really? ...and I wish it stopped there. That story will have to wait for another time, it's much better shared as an oral history in fact, I keep threatening to have someone film me telling the story yet again, so I can just post the video online and be done with it.

So now I'm a bride. Or is it bride-to-be? Can you only be a bride on your wedding day? What are you while you're engaged? Just a fiancé, I suppose? I'm a fiancé - nope. 

[What?!?]

Just one month in to being engaged...

I realize couldn't have picked out a ring even if Markus had asked for my opinion.

I didn't even look around online, that's how little of an idea I had when people would ask what I thought I might like. I never wear rings. How'm I supposed to know what I'll like f-o-r-e-v-e-r? 

"Yellow Gold". That's all I could say. I knew I wanted yellow gold. Apparently the jeweler even questioned it, "you know, the girls these days tend to wear platinum or white gold..." Markus: I know what "they" are wearing. I'm telling you what she wants. 

I do remember an argument a discussion Markus and I shared over whether I should have a "say" in what type of ring I am expected to wear the rest of my life, or not. Clearly we went with "not", thank God. 

I know what I don't want in a wedding dress.

At least I don't have to wear the dress forever, right? Just one day. Phwef! And apparently Markus can't pick this one out for me, I have to do it, right? OKay.

My mother won't be home until June, and I leave about two weeks after my parents land in MS for work in London, so our time frame for doing the mother-daughter-trying-on-wedding-dresses is super short but I am determined to partake in this tradition. I decided it would be best for me to get a better idea of what I do/don't like prior to mom's arrival and our day, half day, couple of hours of trying on dresses. So I made an appointment at David's Bridal just one week after Markus proposed. I hate having a decision looming.

My attendant (I think that's what it's called?) was very knowledgable about the store's inventory and listened to my comments, both verbal and non-verbal. We got along swimmingly. This was a surprise to me because at first I thought we weren't compatible. Not because she wore her blush on her temples, but because she questioned my sanity when I shared my bra size. Side note: for anyone who has not had to go through this before, you have to wear their bras when you're trying on dresses, the corset kind that hook all the way up the back. 

"What bra size do you wear?"

"I wear a 30G, but I realize you won't have my size here in America, so I guess the closest would be a 34DD?"

Attendant looks down at my bosom, then looks up at me with a puzzled look that screams: this chick is delusional! "Ain't no way," she exclaimed.

"I know," I replied calmly clearly I get this often, "I don't look like it, but I assure you it's true. Would you like to see the tag on the bra I am wearing?"

Attendant still perplexed, looks to my sister and friends for some assistance, they are unwilling.

"Look," I say, "just because I don't wear them on the front of my chest, pushed up under my chin, doesn't mean they're not there."

I realize now this was how she wore hers that same day, but I'm not judging her for it, women wear their breasts in different positions, we don't always have a choice! "Mine start under my armpits, see?" Yes, I motioned. 

"Why don't you bring me what you think I wear, and we'll go from there?"

Two bras later we were trying on dresses, and I realized quickly that less of everything is more where my tastes are concerned.